


LESSONS

by thoughtsdemise



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Other, PTSD, Size Difference, a just maybe sigh, a touch now, but hey seeker cuddles man!!, fucking on tables/desks, happy happy day, not the same timelines or series like, porn without any semblance of plot whatsoever, screaming voices and overloads, so ya know, sorry star don’t get to have three mechs at your beck and call this time around, star likes his big boy, that sort of stuff, the war was long and fucked everybody up in someway or another, wiggles eyebrows, with poor blurr, you can guess which one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-10
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-10-17 03:31:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10585527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thoughtsdemise/pseuds/thoughtsdemise
Summary: Starscream learns some lessons.





	1. Prayer to Primus

Optimus twitches as he watches Starscream strut about his office.  The former air commander’s wings rise and dip.  The tapping of blue digits against a desk doesn’t even slow him down.  Optimus rises from his chair to tower over Starscream, sending a locking code to his office door and a message out to Autobot officers that the upcoming meeting was going to have to be rescheduled.

He catches Starscream the next time he passes close by.  There is a shrill squawk, Seekers made the most wonderful noises when startled, and Starscream soon found himself splayed across Optimus; desk with datapads and stylus clattering to the floor.  Starscream is only able to take one vent of air before Optimus lowers himself enough to hook Starscream’s legs over his shoulders.

“What are --”

Optimus slides his mask back and grins before directing his faze at Starscream's interfacing covers.  He slides his digits along Starscream’s hips before cupping his aft and thumbing at the port cover.  Optimus watches the cover shake at the firm brush of his thumbs.  It doesn’t take many of them before the cover snicks aside to reveal Starscream’s port. Optimus looks up when Starscream makes a desperate sound.

“...you’re not...here...in your office” Starscream bites his lip.  His wings flutter with a slight tippy-tapping against the desk.  “...what would your Autobots think?”

Optimus pulls back and up enough that he can see all of Starscream’s face and the lines of his frames stretched out before him.  “Would you like me to stop,” he mumbles lowly, rubbing circles on the back of Starscream’s thighs.

“I…”

Optimus smiles warmly.  “Or do you want me to whisper my prayer of thanks to Primus for you against your port?”  He tilts his head to the side, watching the light in Starscream’s optics flutter.

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes frag me!!”

Optimus chuckles, and he moves his thumbs to circle along the rim of Starscream’s port.  A whining turn of cooling fans trying to be halted fills the room at the deep baritone laugh.  Optimus lowers his head and presses his mouth to Starscream’s port.

He, at his word, whispers and licks at Starscream in tandem with his prayer to Primus, occasionally using the ancient dialect of Predacons to draw the vowel sounds out long and cause a vibrating of lips.

He watches Starscream arch and thrash.  His vocalizer dipping low then shrilling higher.  His digits hold the edge of the desk.  Optimus leans forward to seal his lips over the port.  His glossa poking deep and licking at the constricting walls.  He moans as the rising heat from Starscream finally begins to affect his own systems.  He releases his cable and takes it in a fierce grip to stave off any charge.

Optimus draws back when a zapping harge zings at his lips.  Starscream’s overloads were always something to watch.  The way the armor plates flared, and steam rose from the spaces between them.  The wings that want to break apart as the various parts worked out of time with each other.

He stands, placing his hands on the desk below Starscream’s wings.  His cable nudges at the entrance of Starscream’s port, slipping through the lubricants.  He narrows his optics and his engine turns over at the blush of pleasure.  Starscream arches up, spine bowing in a beautiful line.  Red optics dance with a glorious hue of molten iron as his digits release the edge of the desk to clamp onto Optimus’ arms.

Optimus moves slow.  His cord nudging apart the exterior walls of the port.  He watches Starscream shutter red optics.  Yeah it was going to be one of those slow go arounds.

He sends another message to Prowl with an order to cancel any and all upcoming meetings for the rest of his duty shift.  That should buy him enough time to turn Starscream into a melted pool of metal.  He inserts a few lines of code into his interfacing systems to shunt away the rising charge that Ratchet had taught him a long time ago.  It was going to be a very long but joyful shift.


	2. A Heavy Voice

Starscream arches and claws at the table beneath him.  He turns his helm to the side and rest it on the surface.  His gasping pants fog the cooler metal.

“So heavy,” he gasps out, his blunted digits trying to dig furrows into the metal of the table.

He feels the pause behind him.  He wants to wail a command to keep moving forward.  His wings arch and shutter sporadically.  He is able to finally online his optics to look at the looming shadow behind him.  He licks his lips and tries to rise on his hands but falls back onto the table with a clang.

He attempts to spread his thighs further apart even as he feels the thin lines of lubricant flowing down them.  He knew he’s on the cusp of overloading, has been there almost from the very moment that thick heavy cable nudge the rim of his port apart.  He whines and tries to wiggle his hips back, but large hands hold him completely still.  Wanting to rail and yell commands, Starscream is finally able to gasp an unintelligible plea.

He feels the cord within him shift, and his systems clutch at that miniscule sensation of friction.  One of the large hands wraps about his belly tugging him upward.  There is a pleased guttural growl from behind him.

“Mm.  Me think you Starscream wish to speak.”  There was definitely amusement in that tone.

The digits on his belly knead the area as there is a slow push forward that final draws movement from an overtaxed Starscream.

‘So heavy, so thick,’ are the only thoughts he can process at that moment as he clutches at the smooth surface of the table beneath him. There is another pause, and Starscream wants to scream.

“Me Grimlock want to know what you Starscream have say.”

And Starscream feels Grimlock lean forward so that his frame completely encases Starscream’s own smaller frame in his shadow.

There’s a considerable and pit spawned pause that has Starscream convinced that he’s going to drown.  His spark consumed by a void of non-sensation.

Grimlock chuffs when Starscream’s flailing hands find his arm, digits digging into any seam that they can find.  He rumbles his big engine in pleasure.  He wants nothing more than to give into the greedy raking of Starscream’s field over his, to thrust forward and seat himself so deeply within that he could feel Starscream’s abdominal plate bulge then lean back and enjoy the sight of Starscream’s overload at the bottoming out.  But he wants to hear that voice speak first.

He places his masked face onto Starscream’s audio.  “Me think you need to learn how to use your voice.”  He pulls back before moving forward minutely again, halfway sunken into Starscream’s port.  “I want to hear your commands,” he purrs.


	3. Touching Slide

Starscream blinks at his suddenly empty hands.  He was certain he had just been holding a datapad with the latest demands from the Neutrals…  He cries in surprise as he is forced back against his chair and a hot, vibrating frame is pressed against him.  His hands come up automatically to hold blue plating.  Wait...blue plating…

“Blurr.”  Starscream’s helm knocks back against the chair as he stares at the ceiling.  He tries to keep the frustration from his field at having his work interrupted.  He shutters his optics and begins a count.  ‘Best not to say anything without calm first to know what is going on.’  Starscream releases a vent of air when he feels the desperate need of the arms circling his chest.

“A bad flux,” his vocals are soft as he returns Blurr’s clutching hug.  Starscream resettles Blurr as best he can to tuck the blue helm under his chin.  He glides his digits over Blurr’s back, feeling him relax minutely.

That damnable war had left its mark on all of them in some way or another.  For Blurr it often manifested itself as fluxes of being left alone.  Alone like Starscream had found him in that deserted club to make an offer for enrollment in the Decepticon movement.

Starscream feels Blurr relax, little by little.  His heated frame melding into the coolness of Starscream’s.  He sighs and continues to stroke Blurr’s back.  A lesson he had learned over time that Blurr most enjoyed his back being stroked while he was cuddled next to a familiar spark.

Blurr raises his head, his optics a bit apologetic until they flutter closed in reaction to the press of Starscream’s lips.  He tightens his grip on Starscream’s frame again only this time to steady himself from the spiralling and rising pleasure combing over his systems.

“Ah - Star!”  He draws away from the kiss when Starscream fingers the kinemobile on either side of his spinal strut just above the round of his aft.  He is quick to seal his lips over Starscream’s mouth, wanting to feel Starscream’s glossa twist over his own.

Starscream lifts them slightly, glad for Blurr’s strong thighs which encase his hips.  After the first few times of trying this particular movement and finding themselves laying on the floor nursing sore body parts instead of enjoying a rising bliss, they had learned ways to make adjustment to prevent any injuries.  And just as Blurr had learned to clench his powerful thighs about Starscream’s hips, Starscream had learned to splay Blurr across a flat surface quickly.

Speaking of quickly…  Starscream chuckles into the kiss as he feels the hot and hard press of Blurr’s spike against his belly,  He gives in and sends a release code to his spike cover, though his own spike is slower to pressurize.  Blurr’s muffled cries into his mouth and the rubbing wiggles of his frame encourage a faster “rise to action”, however.

Starscream cants his hips to raise his frame up enough that his spike slides over Blurr’s.  The action causing Blurr to throw his head back and breaking the kiss which Starscream rectifies at the first needy whine from his lover.

“I’m here with you,” he whispers against Blurr’s lips and begins to rock their frames together, “always.”


End file.
